It’s a Nice Day for a White Wedding
This weekend I went to a family wedding. I was thrilled to see my niece, who I have known since she was a little girl, walk down the aisle. Watching the father-daughter dance brought tears to my eyes. The music was great and people got their drink on with great gusto. All in all, it was a day to be remembered. This sounds like a typical wedding, doesn’t it? We all know the clichés.
My partner and I have been together for more than 20 years now. Through ups and downs, we keep on fighting. One of our most constant negotiations is race, because I am black and he is white. I knew before we even arrived at the church that I would be spending the entire day without seeing another person of color. I knew at the end of the night no one would be stumbling around slightly tipsy on the dance floor barefoot doing the electric slide. The best I could hope for was that they would have the good sense to avoid the Macarena or that hideous chicken dance. Those are two things you don’t see at black weddings.
For the most part, his family and I get along well, but that does not mean being surrounded by them doesn’t leave me with a strong sense of dysphoria. Well intentioned comments and carefully chosen words make up a large part of our speech patterns to avoid dealing with the elephant in the room. No matter how progressive they believe themselves to be, I am essentially the square peg in the round hole. The very absence of any other person even remotely considered raced speaks volumes about their regular interactions outside of those with me.
At weddings, we invite family and our nearest and dearest friends. With the cost of the modern-day wedding, it causes us to prioritize who we deem important in our lives. Even as some might refer to that co-worker of color with whom they occasionally have coffee as a friend, when it comes to shelling out more than $100 a plate, suddenly that friend’s appearance at a wedding is decidedly not important. Friendship is a word bandied about far too easily, and it is only during life’s major moments where we can see who we truly value.
I know the dysphoria I felt at my wedding was mine and this was not something many of the guests would acknowledge, even to themselves. My body represented change and an inclusiveness I didn’t even remotely feel, despite the exchanged kisses, hugs, and well wishes. When you marry outside of your race, you’re not only getting your white partner, you’re getting you’re white partner’s family and all that it entails. The family events, which for the most part should be race-neutral gatherings, shift to those fraught with problems a lot deeper than who isn’t speaking to whom.
Despite how far we have supposedly come, the truth of the matter is that most of us lead highly segregated lives. If you doubt that, do a church tour one Sunday morning where you will discover that despite worshiping the same God, whites and blacks do not share the same pew on a regular basis. While it would be wrong to purposefully seek out people based in race, the absolute absence of those who are raced, or the token inclusion of one person, speaks volumes.
It’s hard enough to be the only black person in an all-white workplace, and that is why the spaces which we occupy in our free time need to be as safe as possible. It is highly likely that while your partner may be racially conscious, your partner’s family is not, leading to moments of extreme tension where you must choose between defending your dignity and keeping peace. It means going to a family event and looking around to see not a single face that looks like yours. It means always being on your guard, where you should be relaxing and having a good time, and this is especially true at events where alcohol is served.
There will never be a position of a representational person of color, but that does not mean that whiteness will not seek to make you that, even as they claim you as friend and family. You become proof they are progressive and inclusive, that any negative behavior does not reflect upon them, but the entire race to which you belong. There is no room to act the fool — even for a moment.
Interracial relationships are difficult, and, believe me, I speak from experience. Most of the pressure comes from the outside, and though it may be well-intentioned, that does not mean it does not hurt. I wouldn’t trade my partner for the world, but I do believe that with all of this recent encouragement for black women to seek out white spouses, we should be having honest conversations about what this will mean in our lives and the circumstances we face. When you marry inter-racially, you are never just the daughter-in-law or the sister-in-law; you are the black person who married into the family, and that won’t always be a comfortable position to be in, even at happy events like a wedding.
Girl, you have issues. 20 years later and those folks aren’t YOUR family too? TWENTY YEARS LATER? Your marriage is college-aged now! Why are you still carrying this level of baggage around? I swear, the most confused of us are the ones blogging.
I think the fact that this is still an issue after 20 years of marriage just speaks to how some people refuse to embrace change. I don’t think the author should be attacked because she had the courage to share her experience with an interracial relationship… It’s not her fault if her husband’s family still won’t accept her or make her feel welcome.
I thought they weren’t married at first cuz she called him her partner and not husband.
Yeah at first I thought lesbian but then know what she meant when I read further. I still don’t know if they’re married or not but eh I get the gist….
Seems like there is something more going on in this marriage than just the interracial issue. I’ve always maintained that when you marry a person you marry their family. So if you’re looking to be with someone for the rest of their life, know that you’re going to get a whole host of family members to deal with. If this is not what you want, or if you can’t see yourself dealing with them for the rest of your life, then it’s best to move on and not enter that marriage because they are not going to go away.
I’m sitting here writing this with my wife. I am white from a half French half American family and grew up in Canada. My wife is African American from the States. We are both in our early 30s. We dated for several years before getting married. My family loves my wife and has made her feel included in the bunch from the time that we began dating. Likewise, my wife’s 90-year-old grandmother tried to adopt me upon our very first meeting. Her parents have accepted me into the family so much that it sometimes seems they actually forget that I’m not black. This is funniest when someone starts talking about “that crazy white boy” they knew back in college, and then going on a “yeah, that white boy!” riff. I don’t mind, but after a while my wife will say, “Can we please use another term?” And then her parents say, “Woops!” Aside from funny times, have there been awkward moments or small things that I wish hadn’t been said or done, by either a family member or friend – or even one of us? Yes, but they have been few – and not necessarily greater than when a French person marries a “Anglo” English speaking person where I grew up. Also, it’s almost entirely been not from either of our family members, but from friends or associates – a couple of people my wife has put on an unofficial “probation” or outright deletion from being friends. My wife feels that one person in our family clan is not especially warm to her. The thought of that does not make me pleased, obviously, but then again, in every family isn’t there always one person who just is who they are and acts how they act, for whatever reason? In terms of feeling like society isn’t open enough to us, I can think of three times in eight years when we’ve heard an odd comment or gotten an odd look. But as my wife says, “An attractive, single woman walking down the street in New York City will get that much negative attention in just a couple of hours.” So no biggie. We do find that at grocery stores, unless we are glued to the hip in front of the ATM swipe, checkers won’t necessarily realize that we are together and not separate customers. Sometimes at church, an usher will try to seat my wife and her mother separately from me, thinking that I am not part of the group. Also, years ago at a hockey bar, I was chatting with a woman from Canada and motioned to “my girlfriend;” although my girl and I were sitting next to each other, the woman mistakenly introduced herself to a blonde, white woman at our table. All this to say, my wife and I haven’t – thankfully – had to deal with much negativity so far, and truly do have the full support and enthusiasm of our families. We’ve mainly – especially me – become more aware of people’s assumptions, which are actually kind of interesting to observe. And we also have considerations together that I wouldn’t have been aware of before. Like my wife not liking living in our old neighborhood, mostly white and also very preppy. Now we live on a great block with all nationalities and types of people.
It’s too bad to hear that this writer has not had the same experience as ours. My wife’s trainer at the gym, a young white woman, is marring an African American man and both families are fairly unsupportive – many folks are not attending their wedding. Such a shame.
Praise God for the wonderful gift of open and kind family and friends that my wife and I have been given. We hope to be able to continue such a happy life.
interesting.
it still takes someone who lives the experience to understand what the writer is talking about!
progress…..is coming at a slow pace.